


Bruised Knuckles

by fallacyofwhat



Series: Playground [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Gen, Hospitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-10 03:38:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17418368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallacyofwhat/pseuds/fallacyofwhat
Summary: What would you do if you're met with constant failure, when everything's falling apart? Jongdae is at his wit's end. How long until a new break of dawn?





	1. Bruised Knuckles

He just wanted to scream, to cry his lungs out, to tear his chest apart. He stared at the wall before him. Raising his fist, he punched the wall again, and again. Over and over again. His face was distorted in pain, mental and physical. He was long beyond the point of mere bruises, and the first blood was already adorning the white-greyish wall in his room. He slumped down to his knees, hard and fast, even hitting his forehead in the process. But he didn’t care in the slightest. He just shamelessly bailed his eyes out. He put so much time and effort into it and that was how he was rewarded? With failure? Again? He just hated everything and everyone right now, but it was primarily hatred towards himself. Exasperation and agony were pulsing in his veins. Wiping his eyes furiously with his hands, he slumped further into himself and was sobbing more violently than before. His cries of despair were silent, no one would hear him. He curled into a ball on the ground and held himself in an embrace. The pain in his knuckles seared through and overtook the effects of the adrenaline rush he experienced earlier. He layed in this position for an eternity and the sunlight started to fade away with the setting of the sun. The last rays of light were replaced with the obnoxious gaudy orange street lamp outside that illuminated the ceiling of the room. 

His consciousness was fading in and out the whole time, his body crying out for a rest, the pain settling in his chest and vibrating agonisingly in it. 

It was dark outside, when the slump rose to his feet under much struggle. Heaving himself up, he propped his hands on the wall and he cried out in pain. Falling back down, he held his hands near his chest. Moving his fingers just caused him even more pain. Luckily, his left hand was still sort of working. He scrambled back to his knees, trying not to strain his hands, and attempted to get up a second time. Being successful, he stumbled across the room. Leaning on the wall next to the door, he fumbled with the door handle and pried the door open. He listened into the hallway, but he knew he was alone, as always, everyone living here away.

Finding his way into the kitchen, not bothering turning on the light, he felt around in the dark until he found what he was looking for. Pulling the the bottle from the shelf, he held the liquor to eye level to determine whether it was the right one and if it were clear. Fixating the bottle between his ribcage and upper arm, he unscrewed the bottle cap. He took a whiff just to make sure it really was the thing he was looking for, before he took a big gulp. It was definitely the vodka he was looking for. His face distorted in disgust.

Reaching the bathroom, he flicked on the bathroom light. The sudden brightness burned holes into his eye sockets and he cussed. He was immensely irritated and shielded his eyes from the light from above. Squinting, his eyes slowly adjusted, but still burning like hell. He placed the uncapped bottle on the sink and crouched down. Rummaging through the cupboard, he found the first aid kit. He rose to his feet, still kind of unsteady, and that was the first time he looked at his reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t the Kim Jongdae he was used to see. Instead, bloodshot eyes, swollen from the endless crying, the skin on his cheekbones red and sensitive to the touch. His lips dry and chapped, bits of dried blood on them from continuous gnawing. His face looked like it was stretching over the bones, as if he hadn’t eaten and slept in days, his overall complexion ashen. The paleness stood out even more due the smeared blood around his eyes. He shivered beneath his own hard stare.

Looking down on his hands, the view wasn’t any better. His right hand was swollen and adorned with various shades of dark purples, blues and reds, combined with reddish-brown patches of dried blood, the top of his knuckles not even discernible.

Opening the tap, he waited for the water to heat up a little before cautiously cleaning his hands and face, splashing water on his eyes. He just gave up, the pain was almost unbearable. Looking around, he searched the bathroom for a small towel or washcloth to bite into. 

Pouring the alcohol over his right hand, he shut his eyes on impact and cursed and screamed into the cloth, almost dropping the bottle due to the sudden pain. Repeating the action with his left hand, he tried balancing the bottom of the bottle on the rim of the sink for supposedly more support. Heavy-handed, he poured the vodka over his left knuckles. The bottle dropped for real and broke into a few pieces in the sink. The leftover vodka made its way into the drainage, making gurgling sound due to obstruction. Spitting out the cloth, Jongdae cursed even more.

Carefully, he patted his knuckles dry and sat on the toilet lid. He rummaged through the first aid kit and brought out bandages and compresses. He struggled a lot with bandaging himself up and it was more than helpful. He discarded the remains in the bin, carefully, not to cut himself with the waste glass in the hallway and turned off the light.

He dragged himself back into the kitchen, his goal being the fridge. The light from it illuminated the kitchen in a faint yellowish glow. Retrieving two bottles of wine, he kicked the door shut. Right now, he was unbelievably glad that he bought bottles with a screw and not a cork cap. Grabbing the bottles by their necks and securing them between upper arm and chest, he made his way back out of the kitchen. 

Dragging his feet, he shuffled down the hallway into the bedroom. Pulling the door shut, he fell on top of his bed after discarding the bottles safely on it. His whole body was in pain and laying so long on the ground took its toll on it. The constant straining of his body during that time just made it worse. Suddenly, he started crying again, a sudden rush of emotions. Pulling his knees up, he encircled his arms around them and just cried out the few tears that were left. He was surprised he had even tears left after the whole time. Once the sobbing ceased, he started drinking straight from the bottle, just drinking and staring out of the window into the night sky. A few tears were still rolling down his cheeks.

The wine felt way drier in his throat. He sat in that position for hours on end, the sun was almost rising and a few cars were already passing by. Jongdae continued staring, devoid of all emotion. He knew it wasn’t as bad as he made it, but he put so much time and effort into it and he was rewarded with failure, over and over again. Maybe it was time to move on, start anew, maybe even moving into a different city.

All of a sudden, his door was opened slowly as the first birds started to announce the beginning of a new day.

“Jongdae?” a soft spoken voice called out for him. The voice was enough to break Jongdae, and he let out a desperate whimper, the door now fully open. His dark world was already lit up a bit, it was truly the beginning of a new day.


	2. Arrival of the Birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How is Jongdae supposed to take care of another human being when he struggles with himself?

_ 　　　Six years prior. _

 

It wasn't easy living with a kid at the age of almost four, Jongdae still felt like a kid himself; just a twenty-year-old one. Who in the world thought it’d be a good idea to let an eighteen-year-old raise a child? He had to care for his godchild, his nephew after his family was killed four years ago and the authorities decided just two years ago to give him custody. The second godfather was not around to be found, even after all this time. He couldn't write and read very well and still to this day he couldn't spell his nephew's name correctly. He dropped out of school while his parents were still alive, the government not very keen on helping kids with their education, when making a mint with weapon exports was more important _.  _ He had managed to snatch a barely better-paying job and was on government support due to him raising the child. He didn’t have the heart to give him away for adoption. Now everything he struggled to earn was mainly for little Hoon. 

 

He gave up boxing long ago after he was miserably framed the year his family was murdered and he didn't want to live anymore after that. But then Hoon came in and gave him a new objective in life. He couldn't afford a good living for him though, as the government just gave him enough to pay the rent and he never knew if he'd be able to pay next month's bills and food. His work was tolerant of letting him take Hoon with him because they had a little daycare where he could leave him during his work hours.

 

He felt a pull on his pants while he was cooking. “Appa?” Hoon made grabby motions. Even if Jongdae was cooking he couldn’t resist hoisting him up on his hip. Balancing his nephew on one hip, he made scrambled eggs with the spatula in his other hand. Hoon rested his head on his shoulder and watched him cook.   
“Everything fine, little sunset?” he nuzzled his nose into Hoon’s unkempt hair.   
“Tummy hurting,” Hoon exclaimed and patted his belly. Jongdae knew it was because he wasn’t getting enough food down so he decided he would give his portion to him this evening. He really didn't want to visit the doctor again and he really did not have the money for it. Swaying the little kid from one side to the other, he stroked his belly and hummed to ease the pain a little. “Dinner’s almost ready. You get a big portion today.”   
“Yeah,” Hoon threw his hands up and knocked one of his little fists into Jongdae’s nose.  
“Caution, young man,” Jongdae rubbed his nose, steadying his balance, and retrieved a plate from the cupboard before he set the child down. 

 

Hoon was too small and thin for his age, but he was a bright child. He couldn’t remember his parents at all since he was just a few months old when the tragedy happened. Jongdae stopped correcting him long ago about calling him appa, because Hoon didn’t know that he couldn’t be his dad and Jongdae could not argue anymore with Hoon’s irrefutable argument that he wasn’t his brother but his appa, since all the other children in the daycare were picked up by their parents and not their siblings. Maybe in some sense, he was his dad.

 

Hoon skipped to the table beside their bed. They lived in just a one-bedroom apartment with a conjoined kitchen. It would be too small once Hoon grew up and Jongdae was aware of it. And afraid. He would have to take on more jobs to keep their heads above water by then. It wasn’t the first time he was considering the illegal sector either, more and faster money but less security. Walking over to the child, he balanced the plate with scrambled eggs, one slice of bread, few vegetables and a little bit of bacon and set them down before him. He sat down opposite of Hoon and watched him. He was about to dig in but he suddenly raised his eyes, confused, “Appa not eating?”  
“Appa isn’t hungry tonight,” Jongdae smiled reassuringly at Hoon. Hoon, on the other hand, used his fingers to tear the slice of bread apart and shovelled some egg, bacon and peas on his spoon and held it towards Jongdae with shaky hands, as he proclaimed: “Appa should eat.” “Alright, alright, but you’re eating the rest, okay Hoon?” Jongdae compromised with the small child.

 

After he got fed by his nephew, he skimmed through a pile of documents, sorting them out to collect next month’s bills and the stuff he had to send to child support. Using a calculator, he came to the conclusion that he was barely able to pay the bills for the upcoming months and the nauseating gut feeling only got worse by the second, but now infused with stress too, apart from hunger. He was already working overtime and his boss had raised his pay a bit, but the electricity got more expensive. He might need to move into an even less expensive place if he was unlucky. Racking his brain over how to make more money, he was pulled out of his thought process when Hoon suddenly started coughing violently. “Hoon!” rushing to his side, he rubbed his back to calm the coughing and coaxed him into drinking water. “Are you alright?” The question soon answered itself though, as Hoon was anything but okay and made noises like he was going to vomit any minute now. Grabbing the child he sprinted to the bathroom. Right on time since as soon as he opened the toilet lid, the child started vomiting. Holding him up he didn't know what to do and let him cough everything up. Hoon was crying, tears welling up in his eyes. Picking his phone out of his pocket with trembling hands, he saw that the battery was down to 10 percentage, but enough to make a phone call. He called the emergency line, and the woman tried to calm him down to make sense of what happened, reaffirming what she managed to understand, “You have a four-year-old there, he's vomiting and just ate, but he said earlier that his stomach is hurting?” Jongdae nodded but then remembered that she could not see him. He choked out a yes. “Sir, I’m locating your position on the map, it’s Smith Avenue right?”   
“Yes, 178b, Jongdae and Hoon Kim.”   
“We just sent off an ambulance coming for you, they will be there in five. I'll stay on the phone with you as you’re waiting, Mr Kim.”  
“Jongdae. I'm not old enough to be called Mr yet,” he let out a teary laugh but he was already feeling better now that help was on the way. Money issues would have to wait for later. 

 

Once the ambulance was there, Hoon was rushed into the emergency track. They gave him painkillers in the form of an intravenous catheter in the back of his hand to ease his pain and Jongdae was holding his other hand while waiting for the doctor and the results of the blood tests.   
“Mr Kim, Dr Park.”   
A tall man with tired features approached the duo. He held out his hand for a handshake. “How are you related to,” checking his papers, he searched for the name, “Hoon?”  
“He's my nephew, I have custody over him.”   
“I already wanted to say you look quite young to be a father,” he smiled gently.   
“Long story.”   
“Little Hoon here has light cachexia, nothing too serious. But he's too thin for his age, not much, but still is. We’ll provide you with a detailed nutrition plan.” Jongdae remained silent and looked down to the ground.   
“Mr Kim, you can stay here for the night, we will relocate Hoon into the children's ward once the bed is ready. I can only offer a couch in my bureau for you since the hospital is pretty full with the ongoing gang war,” Dr Park's voice dropped low and the spite was evident in his voice. “Fucking mafia,” he added, whispering more to himself. Jongdae looked up, unsure, and started fidgeting in his seat, “You're really alright with me hogging your couch, Dr Park?”   
“Chanyeol, name's Chanyeol. I'm only 25 of age, almost, so no need to be formal. I'm having the night shift today, so I will be a lot in the bureau if it isn't a problem. And I'm an emergency doctor, but more focused on my speciality as a trauma surgeon and not a paediatrician, so Hoon will be located two stories above you if that's alright.”  
“Jongdae.”   
“Alright, I'm coming back in a few and we're carrying Hoon to his room, he'll be sleeping till the morning, I assume, since he is under the influence of medication.”   
“Hmm,” Jongdae stroke Hoon’s hair.  
“We can talk about everything else in the morning. Right now you need the sleep,” Chanyeol patted Jongdae’s shoulder. 

 

　　　 _________  
_Some time later._

 

The couch was more comfortable than his own bed, but the anxiety was still going strong. Tossing around, he woke up and was met with the sight of a snoring Chanyeol in his swivel chair, drool collecting at the corner of his mouth. Squinting his eyes towards the clock, he saw that it was around four in the morning, which meant that he had slept a good eight to nine hours. His bladder was about to burst and he groggily stood up, stumbling towards the door.   
“Awake, Jongdae?” He whirled around and saw Chanyeol stretching while his joints were voicing their protest. The doctor grimaced, “I feel like I'm 60 of age.” He smiled at Jongdae who didn't know how to react to the kindness the tall man was radiating.   
“Toilet.”   
“Down the hall, on the right.”  
“Thank you.” 

 

On his way to the toilet, he almost ran into two men, the smaller one of the two being supported by a taller one with ash blonde hair. He turned around and observed them, his eyes went wide when he saw them approaching Chanyeol's bureau. Before he even could react, the door was ripped open by the taller of the two, as he announced in a booming voice, “Chanyeol, the idiot of your best friend got into a brawl. Again!”  
Jongdae heard something crash followed by a grunt. Suddenly, Chanyeol was standing at the door, cupping rather forcefully the smaller man's face, “You fucking idiot, what did I say about picking fights with men ‘discriminating’ your height or whatever?!” His voice was dripping with amused frustration. Sounded like it wasn’t the first time this happened.

 

He pulled the man by his nape and towards the direction they had come from. Jongdae was amazed, the man was smiling widely with a busted lip and a gash at his arm, a piece of cloth wrapped around it to stop the bleeding. Chanyeol halted for a second, “Jongdae, I'll be in the ER if you need something, just ask the nurse where I am.” Jongdae only nodded and made eye contact with the smaller man, who was around his height. The man's smile dropped and he stared at Jongdae, crinkling his wide eyes but it was far from smiling, and with that, the trio was off around the corner. He looked menacing and Jongdae felt a shiver run down his spine, crawling under his skin.

 

Finishing his business, he contemplated what to do while washing his hands. Hoon would still be sleeping and he needed his sleep. Exiting the bathroom, he heard running, “Mr Kim! Mr Park asks for your assistance.” It was a nurse, seemingly distressed, “Mr Do is on a rampage and no one can hold him down at this moment.”  
“I--” Jongdae stuttered. “Please, just accompany me,” she didn’t wait for an answer and pulled him by his elbow, “The security isn’t tight enough today.”

 

Arriving at the ER, Jongdae couldn’t believe his eyes. On one side, Dr Park and the other tall man were holding down Mr Do, as he assumed, but with obvious difficulties. The stitched wound looked like it was about to tear any second from the force it was under. He was only wearing his pants and an undershirt, his bloody dress shirt lay on the bed he was probably on before. On the other side stood two security guards and three shady characters, all of them badly bruised, even more so than the smaller man. And he had never heard someone shoot that amount and variety of insulting and abusive language in such a short amount of time.   
“Dae! Thank god! You’re here! Hold him back!” Chanyeol hissed out, to which his companion threw Jongdae a look, “Are you sure he will be able to help? So tiny as he is?” the ash blonde barely dodged a flying fist from Mr Do, “Fuck, Soo! Calm down!”  
“I won’t fucking calm down! I’ll fucking cut the bastard’s face off and feed it to my dogs! I’ll skin all three of them alive, just give me a motherfucking scalpel, I’ll cut their dicks off and--” He stopped his screaming when someone circled his arm around his chest and crossed his arms behind his back, stopping every possible movement. He felt a steady, hot breath in the nape of his neck and an agitated heartbeat on his back. “Let me go,” Mr Do hissed, trying to lightly shake off his oppressor but he already felt that he wouldn’t be able to shake him off, at least not with that wound and the adrenaline rush slowly fading away. The man who had pinned him down, laid his cheek on his shoulder and looked at him, “Sir, please, think about your arm,” he murmured and rolled his head over so that he could almost hide his face in the crook of the stranger’s neck. “You’re pretty brave, I must say,” the man said and the tension slowly started fading away, but Jongdae was still being cautious and didn’t let go, just slightly loosening his hold so that the man’s wound wouldn’t be more pressured. “Name’s Kyungsoo. Yours?”  
“Jongdae,” he whispered; the fatigue from not eating finally coming over him.  
“Hey boy, what’s--” his hands slipped out of the stranger’s hold, who turned around fast enough to catch him before he could meet the ground.

 

_ _________ _

_ Later. _

 

His head hurt and he groaned, trying to get up.  
“Uncle, uncle, he’s awake.”  
“Careful, young man, your dad isn’t feeling well.”  
“What happened?”  
“He was just tired. He needed a whole lot of sleep, you know?”  
“Uh-oh.”

 

“Hoon?” his own voice sounded unfamiliar to him, hoarse and raspy. He still wasn’t really able to open his eyes and waved his hands towards the direction Hoon’s voice was coming from.  
“Daddy! Carry me, uncle?”  
“I told you to stop calling me uncle, I’m younger than your da-da is.” He heard the scratching of a chair that was pushed back and a groan, and seconds later the mattress he was laid on, dipped down with extra weight.  
“Yo, hyung, awake?” the voice sounded unnerved, stressed even. Jongdae pried his eyes open and tried focusing on the owner of the voice. He was able to make out black and blonde hair. Rubbing his eyes in an attempt to regain his sight, he squinted and was met with the sight of a young man with ash-blonde hair, sitting next to him. Beside the stranger, Hoon was standing on the mattress, his arms around the stranger's neck, who was stabilising him with a hand on his back, “Now, now, young man, can we sit down now?”  
Hoon’s eyes didn’t leave Jongdae’s face and he tried sitting down without actually looking where he was going. If it wasn’t for the stranger, he might have fallen down.  
Crawling towards him, Hoon cupped his face with his hands. His eyes were red as if he had just cried. “Hey champ, are you alright?” Hoon’s face lit up and he gave a toothy smile, his missing front tooth even more apparent.  
“Daddy is awake!”  
“Come here, let me hug you,” Jongdae said spreading his arms wide for Hoon to dive in. Nuzzling at the little boy’s mop of hair, he eyed the stranger, “And you are?”  
“Hoon’s new uncle, didn’t you catch it?” the man tsked and his face was devoid of emotion. “Sehun. I was tasked to keep an eye on Hoon here when he woke up.”  
“But he doesn’t like strangers?”  
“Apparently, I’m an exception,” Sehun grimaced.  
“He’s so tall, he let me ride on his shoulders,” Hoon objected from Jongdae’s embrace.

 

A knock sounded from the door and in came Dr Park, his arms thrown around the other stranger’s shoulders, “I’m telling you, the match was great, why didn’t you watch it?”  
“Because I had work to do, you giant dickhead,” the stranger rolled his eyes. The shirt he was wearing was way too big for him and the stitches were wrapped with a bandage. Jongdae wasn’t too sure but he was pretty sure he had seen that shirt lying around in Chanyeol’s office, thrown over his swivel chair.

 

“Ah, Jongdae, you’re awake.” Jongdae thought it was impossible, but Chanyeol’s smile grew even wider. “Hoon?”   
The boy’s head popped up from where he was lying, “Yes?”   
“Sehun-ah and you should get something to eat, it’s already noon. And your dad is awake again, so you need to fulfil your promise and go eat now.” Hoon pulled an adorable pout, but he didn’t object any further and made grabby hands to the blonde man. Jongdae registered a twitch around the corner of Sehun’s mouth. “You’re old enough to walk, Hoon,” Sehun objected. “Don’t wanna,” Hoon was still pouting and it seemed like it did the trick as Sehun’s facial expression softened a bit and he scooped up the boy, who was squealing in delight from the suddenness. A few quick strides and the duo had left the room, but the other stranger was still there and regarded Jongdae with an unreadable expression.  
“Don’t mind him, he’s harmless,” Chanyeol commented, taking in Jongdae’s unsure expression.  
“Oh, fuck off, Channie!” the stranger kicked Chanyeol in the calf from where he was standing and Chanyeol grimaced in serious pain. Rubbing his calf, he spoke up again, “You collapsed from malnutrition. When was the last time you had something decent to eat?”  
Jongdae couldn’t come up with an answer and Chanyeol’s smile faltered a little. He threw a glance at the stranger who still hadn’t introduced himself to him, and only knew him as Mr Do. He couldn’t remember his name. “You don’t need to stay in the hospital but for the sake of it, you won’t be discharged until tomorrow. Please make sure you eat enough. I’m running overtime right now, I should finally clock out before my third night shift starts and I won’t have had any decent sleep. I’ll excuse myself. See you around, Dae,” Chanyeol smiled at him as if he knew something he didn’t.

 

That only left him and the stranger, alone, his presence making him nervous and a tingling feeling invading his guts. He gulped and his eyes flitted to the stranger, who was pulling a chair towards the bed. “Kim Jongdae, I think I should introduce myself again. I’m Do Kyungsoo. No need to be formal, you can call me Kyungsoo. I’ll get straight to the point. I let Sehun run a background check on you, Channie doesn’t know about it but it seems he did some digging himself, otherwise, he wouldn't have asked you to hold me down.” He filled up a glass with water and handed it to Jongdae who accepted it. He was unsure of how to react to the information. “I know the backstory and how you regained custody over your nephew. I’ll cut to the chase, I know you were a boxer and I experienced your strength first-hand tonight. I also know about your family and some digging showed us that we have the same enemy.”  
“Are you making me an offer I can’t refuse? Is this some kind of mafia shit?” Jongdae tilted his head and took in the man’s appearance once again. Even with the oversized clothes, it was apparent the man was too buff for a small office worker, scar on the bridge of his nose and hands aside, the ink on his skin was peeking through some areas.  
Kyungsoo cracked a smile; it suited him. “I own a few companies.” He didn’t exactly deny it but neither did he admit it. “I need someone I can trust for one of my clubs, as a bouncer. We would also provide the best for Hoon.”  
“What makes you think you can trust me or that I can trust you?”  
“You may don’t know it but I realised you’re working in one of my companies on a temporary contract and I know for sure that the temporary employment agency pays shit, that’s why I’m about to cut ties with them. But not without taking the people working for me under my wing. What I want to say is your work management is formidable and I heard some co-workers of yours talk about you. You need the money and you know it. Hoon needs something to eat and so do you. What happened today could happen again. I’ll leave my contact information with Chanyeol. Think about it.”  
He stood up and went towards the door, but he turned around when he lay his hand on the door handle and looked at him, “You’re ambitious, Jongdae, and I’d like to help you. Without you accepting or not.” He smiled genuinely and Jongdae was at a loss for words. After he left him alone, Jongdae started digesting what the man had told him. It sounded dangerous but less dangerous than what he had in mind. Suddenly, Hoon came back in, running, bouncing on him and smiling like there was no tomorrow.

 

After his lunch, he took Hoon by his hand and walked towards the reception, feeling agitated. “Hello miss, I’d like to know about the cost of my treatments.”  
She seemed to be okay with him setting Hoon down on the counter, “Names?”  
“Hoon, with two O’s, and Jongdae Kim, Jong- D, A, E.”  
She searched up the medical bills, and it turned out it would cost him months of pay to pay them. “They've already been paid.” She looked up to him and smiled.  
“Paid? By who?”  
“Kyungsoo Do.”


End file.
